


Runoff

by Denebola_Leo



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Feral Behavior, Gen, Horror, Kinda icky I guess, Mutation, Rats, Sewers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denebola_Leo/pseuds/Denebola_Leo
Summary: He moved to Midgar with hopes of becoming a Soldier. Instead, Cloud became a lowly grunt, doing peacekeeping in the slums of all places. It was as constricting as the rats about him were free.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	Runoff

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! This is for the FFVII Halloween Week 2020 free day! I'd like to thank Senigata and Nautilusopus for their help with ideas, nitpicks, and the god damn title(thanks, Squid!)

Cloud hated doing rounds in the slums. The air was clammy and rank with the scent of sewage, plate runoff, and the faint twang of mako. The ground wasn’t much better, with piles of refuse, pools of muddy water, and chunks of old concrete wherever there wasn’t a bit of broken pavement to walk on.

The first time he had been tasked to enforce Shinra’s edicts in the slums, he had been a mix of excited and disappointed. It was a new place, and people would have to obey his commands. Maybe he would save a citizen from a criminal, even. But it was the slums. Even his most melancholic thoughts of what it was like were dwarfed the moment the train doors opened up to this cesspit. At least now he was sort of used to the stench.

He glanced over at his partner Jenkins, a taller, older teen than him. Jenkins panted through his scarf, clearly taking patrol a lot worse than Cloud, and after passing a group of civilians snuck into the narrow confines of an alley. He took off his helmet, letting loose stringy brown hair, his face glistening with sweat. Cloud did the same, deciding to take a breather while he had the chance.

Jenkins stood there, not really looking at anything and especially not at Cloud. Finally, he slid his hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He glared at Cloud as he took out a cigarette and replaced the pack. “You better not say shit, Strife. Got it?”   
  
Cloud nodded shortly, his fingers tapping on his rifle. “Yes, sir.”   
  
“Good,” he said around the cigarette. “Now put your helmet back on and keep an eye out for any trouble.”

“Yessir.”

Cloud did as he was told, standing stiffly and watching as pedestrians passed by here and there, giving the occasional wary glance towards the grunt. Which he supposed was warranted, considering the purge last week. Rats were his only companions, the creatures sifting through discarded food wrappers or curiously watching him back.

He had seen rats before, in Nibelheim, and they weren’t half the size or intelligence of the ones bred here in Midgar. They were large, fat, black rats, many with eyes that had a sheen he’d only ever seen in a Soldier’s irises. Some had bald patches, or malformed paws, or tails that were too long or flat or split into two. Cloud would never think to pet or coddle them, but found them fascinating, like a giant snake in a glass enclosure.

They wandered about freely, uncaring of the world of giants around them. No rules, no ruler. Cloud supposed that was for the best, considering their numbers. Forcing himself to look towards the rest of the slums, he spied little activity. Someone entering a shop, a prostitute hanging about a small section of intact road, raggamuffins playing with broken toys.

The malodor of cigarette smoke wafted out of the alley, adding to the many unpleasant smells of the slum. Cloud blew air through his nose and brought his scarf above his mouth. He hoped Jenkins would hurry up so they could finish their duty and go back up to the plate, where it stunk quite a bit less and the residents weren’t a moment away from attacking them.

“Ready, Strife?” 

He turned around in time to watch Jenkins take a final drag off his cigarette and casually shoot the butt off to Cloud’s side with his thumb. Jenkins let out a small cough, then put his helmet back on. Cloud nodded, then followed his partner, into the sprawling slums.   


* * *

It had been pleasantly uneventful as slum duty went, with a woman complaining about a thief in a market they couldn’t identify and a rowdy drunk Jenkins smacked with his beat stick a few times, leaving him in the grime. They headed towards the train station, passing a derelict building being used as an outdoor bar. A small but loud crowd was drinking local moonshine, talking amongst each other, or eyeing the two troopers with a look Cloud couldn’t quite discern.

“Stop staring at them,” Jenkins warned. “Last thing we need is them getting any ide--”

“Hey, look at those tin heads,” said a patron, drinking deeply from his cup. “Gonna tell us to fuck off?”

“Shit.” Jenkins stood tall, holding his rifle at the ready. “Back off, civilian."

"You killed my Pops!" yelled another. "Damn you Shinra cunts!"

Cloud readied his rifle, though it shook in his grasp. Jenkins took a step closer. "Interfere with Shinra business, and the lot of you'll be arrested!"

He was answered back with a bottle flung at his head. Glass shards sprayed behind him, one striking Cloud's cheek. He yelped in surprise, and, combined with his jitters, shot off his rifle into the crowd.

Though muffled by his helmet, his ears still rang, and everything became unnaturally still. He could have sworn his heart had stopped in that moment, when the one up front, who spoke of his dead father, had a red stain bloom on his shirt, right where the stomach should be. He held his injury, then toppled to his knees. 

"Why the fuck did you do that?!" Jenkins barked, backing away ever so slowly.

Cloud faintly shook his head, his breaths shallow and quick. His jaw moved a few times before he said anything. Helplessly, he shrugged.

The crowd looked at their dying friend, then at the two grunts.

"Run!"

Cloud booked it as fast as he could.

Gunfire rang out behind him, then nothing but the din of a mob charging in his direction. Soon he heard bullets whizz by, and bits of refuse, some of which pelted his back. Cloud's lungs burned with every breath, the thick air of the slums coating them with greasy pollution.

Cloud took a sharp right into an alley, then another turn, losing them and himself in a labyrinth of old homes. They still followed, a few more steps behind than before. He found a large pile of garbage, then pushed it into their way, scattering junk, cockroaches, and a few rats in the mob’s way, giving Cloud enough leeway to sprint out of their sight.

Hiding behind a pile of forgotten bricks, he pulled off his helmet and gasped in lungfuls of stale air, coughing ever so often. Calming down, he finally took stock of his surroundings. There were no windows on the buildings, and there was an open manhole close by. He wrinkled his nose at it. The only movement was from a dozen or so rats who were watching him with twitching whiskers.

He let out a sigh of relief and put his head down on the wall behind him. Then it all came rushing back, the dread and guilt he felt from outright murdering someone because he didn't have the sense to keep his finger off the trigger. Now an innocent man was dead, most likely Jenkins, too.

This wasn't what he had had in mind when he signed up. Sure, a few beat downs or arrests, but not this. He was supposed to be in the next scheduled slum purge and he knew, he knew now that he absolutely couldn't go through with it, it was far too much to deal with. 

He wondered what he would do now that he effectively abandoned his post. He had to find a way out of the slums without being murdered in kind. He wasn’t even sure if it was worth it, anyway. The only maybe-friend he had was that Zack fellow who just made Second Class. 

If he couldn't handle a single kill, how would he have made it in Soldier? Zack probably killed for Shinra all the time. How many Wutaian soldiers died for Zack's promotion?

He shook his head at the thought. He had to leave Midgar.

If he made it out alive and took a train ticket back to Nibelheim, he didn’t have much waiting for him back there, either. Certainly, he wouldn't be anyone impressive, and if anyone found out that he was a murderer they might just hang him outside town, like they used to.

Then again, he wasn't planning on letting anyone know.

Ma would be happy to see him, of course, but the rest of the village wouldn’t. Tifa would ignore him, and he’d maybe get a job as a farmhand or a fur trapper, and that would be that.

As unwanted as these rats.

A squeak next to him made him jolt. A smaller rat with forepaws longer than its hindlegs was staring at him. Cloud pursed his lips, then rolled his eyes. “Guess you want something from me.”

He pulled himself up a little and carefully pulled out a bit of energy bar he had in a pocket, then tossed it next to the rat. The gangly creature sniffed the treat before grabbing it and waddling out of Cloud’s reach. Cloud watched the rat as he continued to catch his breath. It began sharing the energy bar with some of the others, something that stabbed fleetingly at Cloud’s heart.

Cloud looked away just in time to see one of the people from the bar walk into the alley, and they locked eyes from just above the bricks hiding most of his body. He jumped to his feet, running at the dead-end in desperation, trying to jump at the escape ladder just out of reach. He was struck in the head, knocking him into the refuse, and he felt too dizzy to rise up.

“That was my friend, you Shinra fuck!”

He felt himself turned onto his back, then a fist to his face. The second time he was sure knocked out a tooth or two. He swung back, his assaulter’s nose making a satisfying crunching noise; if Cloud died, and he was pretty sure he would soon, at least this man would never have a straight nose again. His mark on the world.

It rang hollow, all things considered.

His nose was struck right after, filling his throat with blood, then the man squeezed his throat. Cloud had a sudden idea and put his hands on the man’s hate-filled face before shutting his eyes tight. His thumbs jammed into the man’s eye sockets, and finally, he could breathe again, coughing up blood as he turned on his side.

Cloud's attacker stumbled about nearby, howling in pain and uttering curses at him. He felt no triumph, only more guilt from his instinctual desire to live. Suddenly, a rat hopped onto the man's back and bit into his neck. Several more followed, then a dozen, and soon more until the man fell over, screaming.

Cloud watched as he flailed about before going still. They began to consume him, and he wondered if he would be next as he drifted off.

* * *

His head hurt. That was his first thought as he regained consciousness. Cloud’s next thought was that he felt wet. Bleary-eyed, he slowly, achingly lifted himself out of the trash and sat up. He untangled his rifle strap, discarding it next to him, then noticed bloody bones strewn near the exit. Cloud swallowed, tasting a coppery tang; immediately he went to count his teeth, finding his two front incisors gone. 

Squeaking next to him jolted him out of his oral fretting, and he looked down to see that one rat that he had given his food to. Its beady little eyes shined dimly, and it almost looked like it was smiling. Cloud let out a hiss as pain shot through his forehead, and he held his head in his hands.

It passed after so long, and when he looked again the rat was closer, its paws on his knee and its nose twitching. Cloud shook his head. “I don’t have any more food,” he rasped. It squeaked again.

"...What do you want from me?"

_ Squeak.  _

There was some murmuring from the entrance of the alley, and Cloud froze, wondering if this was a search party looking for their now deceased friend. Someone called out a name, getting louder each time.

The rat hopped towards the open manhole and squeaked at Cloud. He chewed on his upper lip, eyeing the entrance and then the manhole. Disgusting freedom or an undignified death?

He crawled to the hole and, with great effort, climbed down the rusty access ladder. The rat followed, landing on his shoulder. He wasn't completely sure, but it felt as if this rat, a thing he would never have wanted around, liked him.

Cloud's nose was clogged with dried blood, but he could sense how heavy the air was just breathing it in. It was dark, too, and he found himself blindly stumbling through the tunnels. He wasn't sure where he was going or where he was, but he was alive and away from the angry people.

Eventually, after a while, he found a door in the side of the wall. He opened it, and found a relatively dry room. There was a very dim, ancient light that somehow hadn't gone out after all these decades, perhaps from a time before planned obsolescence.

It had a few amenities in it, like a metal rack with containers in it, empty after a cursory glance. Some tools were in a metal box, and a bundle of mechanic uniforms were lumped in a corner. A table, a few chairs, and an old lantern with oil rounded out the room.

Cloud looked at the rat perched on his shoulder, and lowered himself so it could sit on the table. Taking a glance at his ruined outfit, then at the old clothing, he began to strip. First his boots and gloves, then his blood-stained outfit.

There was no way he was going back to Shinra now. 

The clothing smelled musty, but it was at least dry. He took a seat and leaned his arms against the table, exhausted after everything and still suffering a headache. Cloud touched the side of his head, and he winced at how tender it was. His eyes traveled to the rat, who sat next to him.

Cloud cocked his head, staring at the little beast. It was still a grimy, deformed thing, but it seemed to care about him, for whatever that was worth. He lifted his hand, and, hesitantly, he placed it on the rat’s back. His thumb stroked the creature’s forehead, and it closed its eyes, going still..

The fur was a lot softer than what he expected. He rubbed its cheek, then behind its ears, all the while a weak smile growing on his face. “Thank you,” he muttered out.

Eventually, he laid his head down on his arm, his eyelids heavy. He continued to pet his new friend until he fell asleep, dreaming of nothing.

He woke up to a crumpled brown bag and more furry friends.

Sitting up he frowned at it. Opening the bag, he was greeted to a takeout box full of fried rice. “Uh…”

_ Squeak _ .

His fingers tapped on the table. He was, despite his nerves, hungry, and the feeling grew as he finally realized it. It only looked like a bite or two had been taken, and it didn’t smell off. If Cloud was being honest with himself, it was more appetizing than the food they served in the mess hall.

The bag still had chopsticks in it, and he dug them out. He wasn’t sure how to use them or snap them apart for that matter, so he simply tilted the box towards his open mouth and used it to move the rice downward. It was cold and greasy, but savory. He finished it in no time.

Cloud felt a little better after his meal, and he reclined on his seat, giving the large rat a pat. “Thanks.”

_ Squeak. _

It went on like this for the next few days, where Cloud would rest in this room he now claimed as his and the rats would drag down food and occasional drinks to him. He started to learn what a squeak meant; if it was a series of three squeaks, it was a greeting; if it was a singular, firm squeak, it was an offering; if it was a bit of chittering as the rat moved back and forth, from him to the door, it was to follow.

Cloud learned that one on his fourth day, when he felt it best to get used to the surrounding sewers.

It was dark and filthy, but there were plenty of dry walkways to navigate. His eyes couldn’t make out much, but after several days he began to understand the layout. All the while the rats stayed by his side, or on his shoulders, helping him find his way back to his room.

He would stumble into strange places, naming them in his head for future reference. The Glowing Pool, which was a basin of mako rich waste water near a reactor. Most animals stayed away from it, he noticed. Closer to his room was The Watering Hole, which was as it sounded: a hole in the sewers, filled with water that usually filled up with every passing storm. Critters usually drank from this, and eventually, Cloud had to, too. 

It had been a very difficult week on his guts, but they adapted, just like everything else in the sewers.

Cloud found manholes that were partially opened, just enough for him to squeeze through. He would peek, making sure there weren't any people, and especially any Shinra. Then he would scavenge, wondering at what people threw away. Useful things, pretty things, half-eaten things.

He began to collect things in his room that he found in his travels above and below ground. A lumpy futon mattress was a vast improvement to the chair or the bare floor; a mat was a nice place to put his filthy boots; Cloud even found a poster to decorate a wall with. Eventually, it felt like it was a home of sorts to him, and always full of friends.

One day, a few of his friends had gone missing.

The rats seemed agitated, moving about erratically as he scrubbed some shirts in a pot full of rainwater. Cloud watched them, scratching at a welt on his cheek. "What's wrong?" Cloud lisped, his gums awfully sore still.

The long-armed rat stiffened its tail and squeaked at him, then moved to the door, sitting by it. Cloud dropped the shirt he was cleaning and picked up the weapons he still had: a baton and a pistol. He opened the door and followed the rat, from one junction to another.

The sewers weren’t so hard to navigate anymore. He hadn’t been there long, but the darkness wasn’t quite as dark as it used to be, and he was starting to understand how sound bounced off solids now. He clicked his gums with his tongue a few times in succession, avoiding a mound of waste. He took another turn, then stopped and hid at the bend.

There was a human down here, a bag in one hand and a makeshift spear in another. He was wearing some sort of armor, or maybe it was just cobbled together bits of metal, and something on his arm glowed green. The stranger stabbed at a rat as it ran by, filling the heavy air with pained squeals.

“What are you doing?!” Cloud demanded as he marched towards the stranger.

The man jumped a bit, but it was impossible to make out his expression; clear glass goggles and fabric covered his face. He tilted his head. “Yo? Hey kid, what’re you doing down here? It ain’t safe!”

“What are you doing?” Cloud repeated, stopping a foot shy of the taller man. He cringed at the sight of the dying rat, twitching with half-open eyes. “Why…”

“I’m exterminating rats,” the man replied. “Kid, you really shouldn’t be here, especially not without some protection...You don’t look well as it is.”

Cloud squeezed his fists, still looking at the now-dead rat. “She was my friend.”

“I-what?” The stranger took a step back. “It’s just a rat, not a person.”   
  
“She always slept on my shoulder,” Cloud continued, bending down to touch the rat’s shoulder. “She would bring back candy, and I’d open the bags up and share them. She was my friend.”

He looked up, his eyes a mess of angry tears. “You killed my friend.”   
  
“That’s not a friend! It's a disease-carrying menace!” The man looked about, then at Cloud. “Did you get trapped in here, somehow? I-I think I know someone that can help…”

“They can’t bring her back!”

“No, You need help! You!” The stranger shook his head, watching Cloud as he flexed his hands and tensed his shoulders. “You’re down here playing with rats. Come with me so we can get you checked out!”

Cloud sneered at the offer to return, then fear gripped him; Shinra would surely be after him for abandonment. “No. No, I won’t let you.”

“If you don’t, I’ll have to drag you out! This is no place--”

The sound of the gun going off, echoing off the concrete walls made Cloud’s ears go numb. The man was on the ground, a short twitch to his foot before going very still. Cloud gingerly looked him over, fleetingly wondering who this man was.

_ He would have ended up being like most of the others, _ he thought. No one loved or cared for him except the rats and his mother, and she probably thought him dead by now, if Shinra sent a letter out. The world of  _ those up there _ was no longer where he belonged, he knew that now.

Cloud scavenged the body, finding a piece of materia and a good, sharp knife. He considered dragging the corpse topside, but in the end, let his friends decide. He scooped up the dead rat and headed home, making a burial shroud out of some fabric and sending her off at The Glowing Pool. It seemed right to do, considering how pretty it was here.

He sniffled, trying not to cry in front of the other rats. He’d do a better job keeping them safe.

* * *

“Huh.”

Cloud looked at himself, reflected in a large shard of mirror he had leaning on the wall. His skin was a bit paler, though that was the least concerning change to him. His eyes had a strange light behind them, and it looked like he was regrowing his two front teeth after a month and a half. His fingernails were growing thicker, too.

He gently nudged his sensitive gums, the tip of his teeth poking through with a little bit of pus. Cloud pulled his finger away and looked towards the mound of sleeping rats on his mattress. They weren’t judging him, shunning him as a freak. Cloud tapped the back of his hand on the mattress, signaling he wanted in. Enough woke up to give him space, and he slid into bed, letting his friends sleep on top of him.

* * *

Cloud could see everything in the sewer now. He chattered using his two new teeth, then delved deeper in, looking for a particular manhole. The rats no longer squeaked at him for communication; no, he understood their body language and the smallest of noises the others above couldn’t hear. They told him of a treasure trove above; they just needed help getting it down to their home.

Of course he would do it,

He found it, and popped the manhole off. He had grown stronger, stronger than his former life as a grunt would allow. Cloud sniffed the air, looking about for anyone. No one seemed to be in the immediate area, so he followed another scent, heavy and strange. Honey, that’s what it was.

In a garbage bin he found it: a garbage bag full of spiced honey rolls. Why someone would throw them away, he had no idea, especially considering how rare even low quality honey was. Maybe they were expired, or the wrong ingredient was added to them. No worries. He grabbed the bag and hefted it out of the bin.

“Hey! Hey you!”   
  
He turned to see an elderly man brandishing a cane at him. Cloud hissed, then ran off towards the manhole, jumping down and fleeing through the maze of tunnels with his prize. He and his friends feasted on the rolls that night, chatting about what his hometown was like. Cloud admitted he preferred the sewers.

* * *

Stories began to circulate in the slums, about a strange monster that roamed about with rats on its back. If you saw it, you’d die, some said. Others said you would only meet a grizzly end if it found out you harmed a rat. People began to leave offerings out to it, if it had been sighted, and sometimes they would find something on their doorsteps afterwards, like a piece of gaudy fake jewelry or a half working gizmo.

Shinra still didn’t care, not until someone gave them actual evidence of what had been dubbed the Rat King.

One day a little girl watched a few rats as she played behind the large, tumbledown bar her caretakers worked at. She tossed some peanut bits at them, since she didn’t want them, even though Papa gave them to her. The raisins were better. The rats gobbled them up, and she threw the rest, smiling at the animals enjoying a snack with her.

She screamed when she saw a pair of glowing blue eyes watching her from a dark recess in the homes behind them.


End file.
